


Five Days in New York

by giselleslash



Category: Merlin FPS
Genre: Fandom: Merlin, Fic, M/M, Merlin/Arthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-29
Updated: 2010-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-13 10:46:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giselleslash/pseuds/giselleslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin in NYC. Five random days and everything that's attached to them. (Or, really, just Merlin and Arthur being completely dumbface in love.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Days in New York

  
**~ 1. May 25th ~**   


 

Merlin's fingers [move across the piano keys.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79UfWizjGiQ) It's his favorite thing to play on rainy Sunday mornings. Arthur's in the kitchen, cursing and burning toast. Merlin can hear him, and smell him, over the piano and isn't it just like Arthur to assault his senses so early in the morning? Merlin knows he can't help himself, the way his very presence curls and snakes through a space like smoke until no one is safe from him. Arthur is simply _there_ and it's best to get used to it because the alternative is a cold and empty thing. Much better to be engulfed than sent adrift.

Arthur finally shuffles out of the kitchen, a piece of toast in his mouth and two mugs of tea in his hands. His hair is smashed to one side because he slept with his head shoved in Merlin's armpit. He's wearing a pair of white boxers and Merlin's old Smiths t-shirt, the one with holes at the neck and under the arms. It never fails to make Merlin smile to see him in the shirt. Arthur says he wears it because it smells like Merlin (although Merlin hasn't worn it in years, not since Arthur stole it from him the night they both got fantastically pissed at Will's New Years party and Merlin had vomited all over Arthur in a glorious display of agility and good aim). Merlin knows Arthur wears it because he thinks it makes him some sort of 80s altrock hipster (and because Merlin's old vinyl of _Hatful of Hollow_ was playing in the background as they fumbled about during their first go at sex in Merlin's bedroom when they were sixteen and worried Merlin's mum would come home and find them, and really, Arthur was a sentimental sap at heart). But in reality his favorite bands ever ever are Journey and Boston ('but they have the best songs, Merlin, really'). Merlin loves to put on _Meat is Murder_ just to see Arthur look up at him with an adorably clueless expression, eyes wide and guileless, and ask, 'who is this again?'

Yes, his Arthur, The Smiths' number one fan.

Merlin looks over at Arthur when he sets a mug on top of the piano and sits down in his chair, the one he keeps pulled up right next to Merlin's piano so he can sit and listen to him play. They spend hours side by side in their cramped, cold flat. Merlin playing on the battered piano they'd spent far too much money on between buying it and paying the proper people to somehow maneuver it into their flat, and Arthur doing whatever it is he's doing at the moment. Anything from scribbling out his chemistry lab reports he should have done a week prior, to eating beans straight out of the can because he was a heathen, to texting his sister about the melted ice cream they'd seen on their way back home because who the hell tosses perfectly good ice cream onto the pavement? Really?

Arthur does his thing and Merlin plays and he loves it when he pauses between songs and Arthur looks up from what he's doing with a confused look on his face, like it's terribly odd and it's thrown off his rhythm not to hear Merlin's playing in the background of everything he does. Cooking dinner or paying their electric bill so they don't have to live with candles for three days at the end of the month and eat all the food out of their refrigerator in one night so it doesn't spoil like they did that one time he forgot. Arthur blames Merlin, says he obviously distracted him with _something_ and Arthur waves his hand about like that explains everything. Merlin takes the blame and starts eating the Chinese take away before Arthur realizes there was any left and fights him for it.

"You still don't have any cred," Merlin says as he eyes Arthur's t-shirt.

Arthur shrugs and eats his toast. It's only when he's done that he answers Merlin with, "Just be glad I'm not wearing my Megadeth t-shirt. The one that scares you."

"It doesn't scare me."

"Does so."

Merlin scowls but keeps playing. "Honestly, Arthur," he says, "what's with all the _skulls_? Who would ever need that many _skulls_? It's not right."

Arthur laughs and props his bare feet on the edge of Merlin's piano bench. "Dave Mustaine."

Merlin rolls his eyes and Arthur is quiet after that. He just sits and drinks his tea. From time to time he stretches his foot out to press his toes into Merlin's hip and when Merlin's song ends he asks him to, 'play that song I love, you know the one.' and Merlin does. He knows exactly which one Arthur is talking about even though he never knows the names of anything and there are a thousand and one songs that Merlin plays that Arthur claims to love. Merlin knows anyway and he starts to play. When Arthur's toes press into his hip again Merlin slows down his playing until the notes are trickling by one by one as he takes his left hand off the keys and reaches out to pull on Arthur's big toe. Arthur's feet are horrifically ticklish and he always makes a grunt of displeasure whenever Merlin messes with them. A half pout passes over his face as well and Merlin secretly adores it even though he knows he should make fun and call Arthur out on it.

Arthur squirms in his chair and tries to pull his foot away from Merlin who stops playing altogether to grab Arthur by the ankle. He starts to bring Arthur's foot closer to his face as Arthur yells, 'Don't you fucking dare, Merlin. Gross!' He sticks out his tongue and acts like he's going to lick Arthur's toe and the look of pure terror that crosses Arthur's face is enough to get him laughing out loud. If Merlin didn't know any better he'd think Arthur was a simpleton. He falls for it every time, like suddenly, one day, Merlin will actually lick his foot (which Merlin agrees with Arthur about, gross, who knows where the hell Arthur's feet have been? he'd never wear shoes if the laws of the, 'no shirt, no shoes, no service' gods allowed him into McDonalds without them.) Arthur starts kicking out at him with his foot and Merlin has to double over and trap it against his stomach to stop Arthur from flat out kicking him in the face, which he's done before and found far too hilarious for Merlin's liking.

" _Merlinnn_."

"What? Like I'm going to lick your foot. Gross."

"I know! Why would you even joke about something so heinous? Oh my god, you're an ass."

Merlin laughs and lightly drags his fingers over the arch of Arthur's foot, sending him into further bouts of shouting, before he lets his foot go. Arthur's pouting again and pulling his foot back so he can wrap his arms around his bent knees and hide his feet from Merlin's evil licking (Arthur's words). Merlin manages to quickly lean over and kiss Arthur's knee before it's too far away. He peeks up at Arthur and sees a tiny, fond smile flit across his lips before they go back into their pout. Merlin wants to tell Arthur that he loves him just then, but he doesn't because he knows exactly what Arthur would say in return, 'well, I don't. I'm leaving you for someone without a toe licking fetish, you tarty pervert.' so he settles for smiling at Arthur instead. Arthur stares back and makes another face like he knows just what Merlin is thinking and before Merlin can even register it, Arthur's foot shoots back out one last time to shove Merlin's arm. The shove is unexpected and hard enough to make Merlin wobble on his bench as he starts laughing and grabs at the edges of it to hold himself steady. Arthur has his mug up to his mouth and is slurping down tea but there's a smile behind the mug, Merlin can see it clear as day.

Merlin [starts to play again](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqyCFAcEQ88&feature=related) and Arthur laughs out right. Merlin smiles at him and continues playing.

"Just thought I'd cater to your plebeian tastes."

"Don't pretend like you don't love Gaga."

Merlin snorts but doesn't deny it and Arthur only laughs louder. He knows he should be embarrassed by the number of songs he can play just because he knows they'll crack Arthur up. There's no reason anyone should be able to play Ke$ha or Katy Perry on the piano, at least not willingly, but there they are, stuck in his brain just for Arthur.

He plays more embarrassing songs for Arthur, and others not, they're just slow and lovely and match the fall of rain outside their window. Arthur hums when he likes one and Merlin adds it to the 'Arthur's Playlist' in his head. He's never anything less than fascinated by what Arthur likes. He's the most eclectic mutt of a music lover Merlin has ever known. He's fascinated, but he's never surprised because it's just like Arthur to love everything and never mind if it makes him ridiculous or lame or gloriously perfect. Merlin's happy for Arthur's tendency to collect things and love them with the abandon of a heart bigger than he lets on because Merlin was one of the things he collected, way back when. Merlin, a bit of a mutt himself, all big ears and gangly limbs and strange tastes and yet Arthur saw him and grabbed a hold of him to carry him along for the ride that was Arthur's life until he loved Merlin so much he could never have let him go even if he tried.

Arthur yawns and Merlin turns to look at him as he begins to rub the sleep from his eyes, with both hands just like a small child, and Merlin thinks that in that moment he'll never love anyone more. That he can't. Something must show on his face because when Arthur stops rubbing the sleep from his eyes he sees Merlin staring and pulls himself out of his chair to sit beside Merlin instead. He presses himself into Merlin's side and wraps a warm arm around his waist. Arthur's cheek is against Merlin's shoulder when he whispers, 'me too.' Merlin's heart beats in his chest and his fingers press into the keys underneath them, the notes getting louder and louder as he begins to play the song he wrote for Arthur. For mornings when he holds him tight and whispers words honey sweet against his shoulder.

 

  
**~ 2. October 21st ~**   


 

Arthur loves Central Park. They go at least once a week. They go to the zoo or toss coins in fountains or spread a blanket out, curl into each other and sleep away a warm, summer Saturday afternoon in the sun. Merlin likes to read there as well, a new bench every time, and Arthur likes to watch people as he sits beside him. He also loves to shuffle off to find ducks to lure over towards Merlin with crumbs from the hot pretzels he buys because Merlin is afraid of ducks. Like, screaming like a girl, hilariously afraid of ducks. That kind of afraid. And he acts like he's not. That's the best part. Arthur will come over with a trail of hungry ducks behind him and he'll watch the look of terror that crosses over Merlin's face before he tries to hide it and act all nonchalant as he pulls his feet up onto the bench. Arthur pretends not to notice that Merlin is all but squatting on the bench ready to take off running should one of the (obviously) flesh-eating ducks make a move for him.

"I want to buy a farm," Arthur says. "When we're rich. So we can have ducks. Lots of ducks."

Merlin possibly whimpers. Arthur isn't sure, he thinks he hears it but Merlin bravely chokes it down and coughs instead to divert attention away from his less than manly antics.

"What do you think, Merlin? Lots of ducks then?"

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever." Merlin says and he's inching his way down the bench, away from Arthur and his minion of ducks. Arthur wants to laugh because Merlin is crouching and can only make little waddling steps along the bench. He looks very much like a duck himself and Arthur wants to kiss him.

"Could we maybe have sheep instead?" Merlin asks.

"Sheep are stupid."

"So they're stupid, you shouldn't hold it against them. I don't hold it against you."

Arthur laughs and sits down as close as he can to Merlin. He does hear the whimper then because the ducks waddle around Arthur's feet as he continues to feed them and pretend like he's not enjoying torturing Merlin.

"You could be a sheep herder," Merlin tries another angle. "With a dog and everything."

Arthur shrugs. "I think I'd rather you do the herding. I don't think I'd look as cute in wellies as you would."

"Fine. I'll do the herding and the shearing and you can spin the wool into yarn."

"What am I, Rumpelstiltskin?"

Merlin ignores him and soldiers on. "You could knit little woolly jumpers to sell at our roadside stand."

"Seriously, Merlin, when did I agree to be your wife?"

"Guys knit too. You even said you wanted to learn to knit that one time we sat with Lucy and watched her make baby booties."

Arthur smiles as he thinks of Lucy. Merlin had had his heart set on this one particular bench that was under a chestnut tree but when they got there they found a little old lady sitting and knitting instead. Merlin had frowned and was about to turn to find a new bench when Arthur grabbed his hand and pulled him over to Lucy and the bench anyway. He never could stand seeing Merlin unhappy and he figured it was a big enough bench, wasn't it? Besides, Merlin was scrawny and they could probably fit five of him on the bench, surely there was enough room for Arthur and a little old knitting lady too. Arthur had stood in front of Lucy and blurted out the entire story of Merlin and his bench and Lucy had smiled up at them and asked them to sit with her. Arthur gave Merlin a, 'see?' look as he shoved him down onto the bench. They had sat there and talked to Lucy for an entire afternoon and now they meet her there at least once a month so Arthur can buy her hot chocolate or lemonade and she can ply them with knitted hats and scarves, even in the middle of July. Merlin is in beanie nirvana, thanks to Lucy.

"Lucy could teach me," Arthur says as he pretends to warm to the idea.

"We could have a garden and make jam and sell pickled beets."

Arthur makes a face. "Why on earth would I want to pickle beets?"

"Well, not beets then, but other vegetable type things. In jars."

"We need a pond," Arthur says. "For the ducks. You know, I bet they'd like to help you herd sheep. They could waddle along behind you and everything."

Arthur watches as Merlin's eyes grow big and he gives up all pretense to coolness and whines pathetically. " _Arthurrr_. Oh my god, enough with the ducks already. I hate ducks. Ducks are evil. They waddle and it's disturbing and I want no part of it."

Merlin's voice is at a volume that is louder than it should be and people are giving him strange looks and all Arthur wants to do tackle him on the bench and kiss him until neither one of them can breathe any more.

"You don't like ducks?" Arthur feigns a sense of appalled surprise. "But they're so cute."

"Arthur!" Merlin shouts and Arthur can't help it any more. He laughs, loud and open mouthed, and Merlin punches him in the arm. He mutters an, 'ow!' and there are tears in his eyes, but more from laughing than anything else. Merlin's looking at him like he could strangle him but then one of the ducks at Arthur's feet quacks and Merlin nearly jumps off the bench.

Arthur may be an ass but Merlin is really, truly, at his wit's end by now and he's not about to let him stay that way.

"I'll save you, Merlin," he shouts out in what he hopes is a very knightly, and highly embarrassing, fashion as he grabs Merlin around the waist and lifts him off the bench. Merlin squawks nearly as loudly as the ducks when they scatter as Arthur makes a run for it with Merlin halfway over his shoulder. Merlin is trying to hang onto Arthur so he doesn't fall on his arse at the same time he's trying to hit him so he'll put him the hell down. Arthur laughs and waves to the people staring at them as he runs past.

Arthur is running out of breath and he finally gives up and collapses onto the ground spilling Merlin into an awkward heap and letting himself fall on top of him.

"You're a horrible human being," Merlin complains as he tries to roll out from underneath Arthur.

"But I saved you. From the evil devil ducks."

"You know I hate ducks and yet you lure them over to me."

"I'm trying to help you overcome your fears."

"By being a complete twat?"

"If I must, so be it. It's all for you, Merlin."

Merlin looks up at Arthur who has such an earnest look on his face that Merlin can't do anything but sigh and throw a handful of autumn leaves in his face.

"You do know you make it completely impossible to be mad at you, right?"

Arthur props himself up on an elbow and looks down at Merlin, touches his fingers to Merlin's temple, then his lips. "It's part of my charm," he whispers against Merlin's lips as he kisses him. Carefully. Sweetly. Like he wasn't just driving Merlin crazy and acting like a lunatic. And his hand is warm against Merlin's neck so there's nothing for it but to kiss him back.

Merlin turns into Arthur and wraps his arm around his waist. The tip of Arthur's nose is cold from the chilly air and Merlin wants to laugh but he wants to kiss him more. He always does. Besides, Arthur's lips and hands are warm and that's all that matters anyway. Merlin wants to tell Arthur he loves him just then but Arthur beats him to it.

Their foreheads are pressed together and their breath is warm on each others faces when Arthur tells him, his thumb stroking the base of Merlin's throat.

"I love you," he whispers and adds, "Do you even know how much?" and Merlin nods because he does. He knows. And it's rather desperate at times, but sometimes comfortable and warm too, like a pair of thick socks in the middle of winter, or ridiculous, or so goddamn freeing it's like what Merlin imagines falling through a starlit sky feels like and he doesn't know what version of them he loves the most. But it's okay. They're all those versions. All at once. And they're perfect in their own complicated and messed up way.

Arthur knows it too. That's why when he says, "You know I'd rid the world of ducks, just for you," it doesn't sound like a joke but more like a roundabout way of telling Merlin he's perfect as he is and Arthur wouldn't do anything to change him. Even his absurdities and idiosyncrasies.

"The pied piper of ducks, huh?"

"Exactly."

Merlin hugs him and he hears Arthur say, "I'm so glad that you're mine," against his neck and Merlin thinks he doesn't ever want to let him go. So he holds on tighter and tells him so and Arthur's fingers twist themselves into Merlin's hoodie like he's more than willing to do just that.

A long time later Merlin's stomach growls and Arthur laughs. They break apart so Arthur can go in search of food and Merlin feels a bit bereft for a while. He knows it's foolish to think so but somehow, with Arthur, the foolish sometimes seems entirely possible. He watches Arthur jog away, all perfect and golden in that brilliant shade of autumn sunshine, and he reminds himself to be sure to tell Arthur the same thing. That he's glad Arthur is his. Maybe later on at night, when they're nearly asleep and Arthur will hear it like it's part of his dreams.

 

  
**~ 3. January 30th ~**   


 

Arthur wakes up when Merlin pushes inside him. He gasps like all the air has left him and Merlin wraps his arms around him, presses his hand to the center of Arthur's chest to hold him still as he rocks his hips against Arthur who is still stuck in that half awake dream. He's sluggish and his limbs won't move properly but it doesn't matter because Merlin is wrapped around him, warm and naked against his back, and all he needs to do is reach out for the edge of the mattress. Make his fingers move enough to curl around it so he can hold on and push back against Merlin.

Merlin's fingers grasp at his hip, and oh god. _God_. He turns his face into the pillow and thinks that all he wants is for Merlin to keep fucking him forever. Slow, deep thrusts like he's doing right now when they just roll their hips in time with one another and Merlin never leaves him, never withdraws, and he's so full he can feel the heat of it prickling all up and down his spine. Merlin's forehead is against the back of his neck and there's no space between them and Arthur is glad Merlin can't see his face in that moment because he knows what he looks like. He knows his eyes and face would be so fucking raw and exposed that it makes him momentarily embarrassed. For the briefest moment. He knows how open Merlin makes him and it's because of Merlin that he knows there are things more naked than bare skin, those things that rip you open and put every piece of you on display.

Arthur pushes his burning face deeper into his pillow, makes a sort of choking noise. Merlin hears it, breathes out against Arthur's neck, a gasping breath as the moment shifts and Merlin becomes almost frantic as he grabs at Arthur and holds him so tightly in his arms Arthur can hardly breathe. Merlin's hips move faster and he's fucking Arthur so hard all he can do is claw at the sheets and try not to break apart. Arthur feels Merlin's nose pressed to the back of his head and he's making noises like he wants to weep and Arthur wants him to because then he wouldn't be alone in his naked desperation. And he thinks he should maybe hate Merlin for making him need him, want him so very much, but he can't. Not when the morning is ice cold and silent but for their broken, jagged breaths and the slap of skin and he knows all he'll ever love is Merlin.

All it takes is Merlin's fingers around his cock to bring the heat up to the back of his neck, make it fall over his shoulders and chest like poured water. He's coming all over the sheets and Merlin's hand and Merlin keeps fucking him until his hips jerk to a stop, buried deep inside Arthur. Merlin's hand on Arthur's stomach, smearing his come across his skin, holds him against his chest as he comes too. Arthur's name on his lips along with curses and fragments of words Arthur doesn't think are meant to be understood at all.

They don't say anything and Arthur falls asleep again, too heavy and worn to do anything else.

The next time they wake up Arthur is the first to open his eyes. Merlin's on his stomach, sprawled across the middle of the their mattress, and Arthur is half sprawled on top of him. His right arm is slung over the small of Merlin's back and Arthur's head is pressed between his shoulder blades. Arthur is never quite sure how he manages to sleep with Merlin's bony shoulder blades pushing into his head, but he does, and quite often at that. Merlin's back is moving up and down with the deep breath of sleep and Arthur thinks he maybe ought to kiss him awake. He wants to do more, later, when he can think of something other than Merlin's sloppy, half asleep kisses.

Merlin mumbles against his lips, something about cats, and quiet laughter slips from Arthur's mouth. He keeps at it, though, with another kiss to the corner of Merlin's mouth, his bottom lip and the curve of his jaw. Merlin licks his lips and says something about bacon, or maybe broccoli, Arthur isn't entirely sure. He does know that he wishes for a recorder so he can use Merlin's sex-dazed mumblings as blackmail fodder later on, but he never thinks that far ahead and has to content himself with laughing at him instead. He smooths the hair off of Merlin's forehead and runs his hand along the side of his face as he tries again. Slow, careful kisses that finally coax Merlin's eyes open. He smiles, mutters Arthur's name and kisses back. The kisses go on and on and Arthur wonders if they could maybe just kiss the whole day away.

"I'd probably have to pee," Merlin says and it's only then that Arthur realizes he said that last bit out loud.

"And now you've ruined the moment," Arthur complains. Merlin ignores his complaining and curls into him. Arthur hooks an arm under Merlin's armpit and pushes his fingers into the mess of hair at the back of Merlin's head.

"It was a good moment." Merlin's voice is scratchy, low, and Arthur feels it in the pit of his stomach. And instead of scolding him again, Arthur kisses the bridge of Merlin's nose. The backs of Merlin's fingers brush back and forth across Arthur's chest and he wraps his own around them and kisses them next.

"I know what you're doing," Merlin says. Arthur raises an eyebrow and Merlin answers, "You think if you kiss me into submission I'll make you breakfast."

"I'm thinking bacon. Or broccoli."

Merlin gives him a look, mouths, 'broccoli? what the hell?' and rolls away from him, stretching out like a cat and making a fantastic racket while doing so. "You're a knob," he says out loud.

Arthur doesn't tell him he was the one going on about broccoli in his sleep because he wouldn't believe him anyway. Merlin's approach to all of Arthur's claims that he talks in his sleep is to deny, deny, deny. Then smack Arthur on the arm.

Arthur doesn't want to argue anyway because even though Merlin called him a knob he's looking at him with fond eyes from across the bed and is reaching out to touch his fingers to Arthur's mouth. Arthur reaches out, too, to drag Merlin back over to him.

It just isn't right, having Merlin so far away.

 

  
**~ 4. June 3rd ~**   


 

"Well that's just false advertising," Arthur complains when Merlin tells him that Coney Island hot dogs weren't invented in Coney Island, but in Michigan.

They're on the D Train on their way out to Coney Island and Merlin is playing around on his phone trying to find as many reasons as possible to tell Arthur he's lame for wanting to go in the first place. Not that Merlin doesn't want to go himself, he's quite excited actually, it seems like something they should have already done now that they've been in New York all these years, but he just likes to irritate Arthur on train rides. He has the tendency to start talking the second he sits down and doesn't stop until they reach their destination. An hour of Arthur's musings on people that put clothes on their dogs (they passed a lady on the way to the train walking a dog the size of a rat that was wearing a hot pink hat, Arthur was thoroughly appalled, Merlin thought it was cute) and the latest episode of _The Biggest Loser_ (Arthur is obsessed with the show and Merlin can't figure out why, he even gets all teary-eyed and emotional when the contestants meet their goals) is something to be avoided at all costs. Not that Merlin ignoring him and playing with his phone deters Arthur at all, but still, it's worth a try.

"What other Coney Island dreams can you shatter, _Mer_ lin?" Arthur asks.

"Dunno. Let me see," Merlin says as he starts typing on his phone.

"I think your phone is a liar."

"You talk about it like it's capable of independent thought. It's a phone, Arthur."

"That's bewitched and evil."

"Just because it's giving me the means to irritate you doesn't make it evil. Or bewitched."

"Let's agree to disagree on that."

"Yes. Let's," Merlin laughs and digs his fingers into Arthur's side.

"Insult to injury, Merlin," Arthur says around an, 'ow,' "You're adding insult to injury."

Arthur doesn't say anything for a while, which is very unlike him, so Merlin looks over and notices he's frowning and has a far off look on his face. Like he's thinking, never a good course of action for Arthur. Merlin loops his arm through Arthur's and lays his head on his shoulder.

"Even though Coney Island hot dogs aren't actually from Coney Island I'll still bet you a week's worth of dishes that I can eat more hot dogs than you."

Arthur throws his head back and laughs at that. "You? Merlin, have you met you? Or me? You're actually more of pig than you look but I can still eat twice as much as you."

Merlin leans back to give Arthur his idea of a sinister look. "I'm a dark horse. You never know what I'll do."

Arthur laughs even harder at that and Merlin smiles. They spend the rest of the train ride deciding what they're going to ride first and how much they'll have to eat before one of them pukes all over the boardwalk.

At the end of the day they sit on the beach and watch the sunset because Arthur declares it, 'romantic and all that bollocks.' Such a wise and eloquent statement Merlin can't possibly deny.

Merlin's sitting between Arthur's legs. He has his own legs pulled up to his chest and he's looking down at his bare toes as they dig themselves into the sand. He's sunburned and exhausted. He's pretty sure his stomach is about to explode at any minute (because, ha!, he won the hot dog bet) and it's one of the best days Merlin has ever had. Arthur's fingers are on his back writing out words for him to guess. Words like 'hippopotamus' (which he's pretty sure Arthur spells incorrectly, no matter what he says) and 'fuckwit' and 'dildo'. Arthur totally gives away the dirty words, though, because the dumbarse _giggles_ , like an eight year old girl, every time he writes one. Once Arthur gets to things like 'sand' and 'sun' and 'ocean' Merlin knows he's exhausted his rather limited vocabulary (thank god Arthur knows a fuckload of dirty words otherwise the game would have ended long ago) but then he starts to write more than single words. He starts at Merlin's left shoulder and works his way across Merlin's back, writing in small, careful letters all the way to the small of his back. Merlin turns his head and sees Arthur kiss the tips of his fingers before pressing them to Merlin's side, where his words ended. Merlin shivers because Arthur slips his hand underneath Merlin's t-shirt and his finger are soft against Merlin's overheated skin.

"What did you write?" Merlin whispers. He feels like he should, whisper that is, and he doesn't quite know why.

Arthur doesn't answer right away. Merlin feels the air change around them, it feels sort of electrified and it's weighty with meaning all of a sudden. He feels awkward like he tends to do in moments that are too close, too dear, and he blurts out, "Please tell me it's not a disgruntled letter to the Coney Island city council about the false advertising of their hot dogs."

"No," Arthur says seriously, quietly, as he brushes his fingers over the nape of Merlin's neck.

Merlin pulls his legs closer to his chest and lays his cheek on his knees. His fingers play a tune on Arthur's knee that's bent beside him. He doesn't say anything else, only waits for Arthur to say more. He doesn't want to blurt anything else out and ruin the quietness of the moment.

Arthur's fingers keep playing with Merlin's hair and he finally answers.

"It's my love letter. To you."

Thankfully Merlin stops himself from saying, 'well, who else would it be for? it's on my back,' like a complete pillock and says instead, "What does it say?"

Arthur's lips are on his neck. "You know what it says."

And the thing is, Merlin does, because every day Arthur writes him a love letter. Maybe not with actual words, but they're there all the same. Love letter after love letter filled with perfect moments and touches and words spoken at all the right times. Merlin knows exactly what it says because his would say the same.

 _You're the only thing that makes me whole. The only sure thing I know. I'm so lucky I found you._

 

  
**~ 5. September 1st ~**   


 

Merlin is sitting across from him at the little dingy cafe they found one block down from their flat. His foot is tapping the floor and the fingers of his right hand are playing something on the table, some song Arthur doesn't know, but a gesture he knows well. It's a nervous tick of Merlin's, when he's out of sorts or at a bit of a loss.

They've just finished moving what little they brought with them from London into their new flat. First day there. The walls are bare and all the furniture they have is a mattress on the floor they bought just that day because Arthur spotted a mattress store not far from where their cab dropped them off from the airport. A lone mattress and stacks of clothes and books and sheet music put into crates, for now, until they can scrounge around for cheap furniture.

They don't even have plates or silverware or any food in their refrigerator which is why they find themselves eating rather dodgy burgers and drinking wretched coffee in the closest cafe they can find.

Merlin starts at the Manhattan School of Music tomorrow. It's why they're there, in New York, so far away from home and everything they know. And Arthur knows Merlin is terrified. His face is open and clear as day, every worry written across it for Arthur to see. He knows Merlin worries most about disappointing Arthur and upending their entire life for nothing. But Arthur knows it's not for nothing and that Merlin will be nothing short of amazing.

Arthur reaches across the table and grabs onto Merlin's tapping fingers. They're cold and jittery in his own but he squeezes tightly and they seem to settle. They sit that way for a while, just staring out the window and watching all the people walking by, until Merlin breaks the silence.

"Do you think we'll do alright here?"

The uncertainty in Merlin's voice makes Arthur's heart ache. He thinks about all the days ahead of them, frightening and unknown, and he has his answer almost immediately.

"We'll be brilliant. Just you wait and see."

 

~End


End file.
